


As red as a cherry

by Elanor_Hermione



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Isolation, M/M, Mentions of dissociation, No beta we fall like Crowley, Punishment, Thinking of words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elanor_Hermione/pseuds/Elanor_Hermione
Summary: Alone in the void, where he was sent by the Archangels as a punishment, Aziraphale thinks about fruit and colours, discovering his memory is not working well.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 42





	As red as a cherry

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome :)  
> English is not my first language, and since I'm not particularly good at writing and I need a lot of practice, I thought: "What's the best way of practising? Fanfiction, of course!"  
> So here I am. Please, let me know if there are mistakes and where I can improve.  
> Enjoy and have a nice day! :)

"Aziraphale, we are extremely understanding and aware of the fact that you couldn't save all those people, despite your efforts. But you have gone against a direct order of your superior, and this cannot be tolerated: for this reason I punish you with isolation in the void for as long as I consider opportune.

I hope you'll learn from your mistakes".

___

There wasn't much to do in the void, so he slept a lot: that's why he was always awake on Earth.

He once woke up with a strange taste in his mouth; it was sweet, quite intense. He liked it. A lot. But he couldn't remember what kind of food was responsible for that sensation. He reflected and meditated, trying to come up with the right name: was it a fruit? Or a vegetable? Or maybe meat, or fish?

It was the flavour of a fruit, almost certainly, one he ate with Crowley in Spain few days before being brought here by the Archangels, if he recalled correctly. He managed to imagine it: little, round, as red as blood. What was its name? Did it start with a consonant or a vowel? What was the story of that name? Were humans using it in the first centuries of their life, when Noah or Abraham were alive, or did they invent it in modern times, when new languages were being created based on Latin?

He didn't know.

Time passed, and he still couldn't remember the name of that fruit.

He should have been shocked, scared or at least worried, but he wasn't; all he could feel was emptiness. His eyes closed again, and he went back to sleep.

___

Space was impossible to define in the void, and so was time: minutes, days and months made little sense there, and Aziraphale was aware of that; but nonetheless he craved a way to determine how long his punishment was lasting. He was sure that Crowley had not noticed his absence, or maybe he had, but didn't get worried.

He thought of him, trying to picture his face in his mind: he could see quite vividly his snake eyes, his sharp cheekbones and his hair.

Oh, his hair. He had always admired Crowley's hair, for it was really soft and its colour was beautiful: in short words breath-taking, especially when somebody coiffed it (even if he always made a drama whenever Aziraphale called him “nice” or “good”, sometimes he had tiny, messy braids made by some playful children: the depth of love coming from those braids was almost overwhelming).

He tried to focus on the colour of the demon's hair, which was easy since he used to spend quite a lot of time looking at it. But even though he could visualise it, he wasn't able to find the word to express it. It was the same colour of that fruit he could not label.

He frowned, and scared he tried to name all the shades he could think of, but he had to give up shortly after.

They were all nameless in his mind, that reclusion had robbed him of basic vocabulary, of words he read every day in his books: it was really an horrible punishment.

Slowly his eyes began to be filled with tears, tears that rolled down his face and got lost into the vacuum surrounding him: he didn't feel them, having lost the feeling of his corporation much time earlier.

However, despite the loss of words, his mind didn't forget that colour's name: it was impossible for him to forget.

For black was all he could see, all he could say.

___

"Angel, during your trial Uriel said something about a sort of void they punished you with centuries ago. What was that about?"  
"Oh, nothing I'd like to talk about today. It was just a place where I could be on my own and think, nothing to worry about".  
"But-"

"No buts, Crowley. Tomorrow we will discuss and have a long conversation about our past and whatever is bothering us. Today we aren't doing any of these things: today we celebrate our freedom and our side".

He drank his champagne, watching the light hitting Crowley's hair and making it appear as red as a cherry.


End file.
